


The Call

by crestedhearts (orphan_account)



Series: Red Strings (Sephiroth) [7]
Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:29:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24493537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/crestedhearts
Summary: You finally work up the courage to take the job. With Sephiroth away for some time and your friends' lives on the line, there is nothing else you can do.
Relationships: Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII)/Reader
Series: Red Strings (Sephiroth) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757899
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	The Call

**Author's Note:**

> It's plot time! And a little bit of characterization time for the reader! ♡

IT HAD BEEN A LONG time since you had worn your merc uniform, even longer since you could actually fill it out without worrying about the baggy chest and hip area. Woven from hard adamantine threads, stained black, and supported with stretchy latex that allowed you free movement, it made you quite the formidable sight; your calm colored wardrobe of harem pants, skirts, t-shirts and tank tops just didn't seem to fit you when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You had finally gotten up the courage to pry up your floorboards and take the darned thing out of its lockbox, after a few restless nights of contemplating the serious repercussions of going along with the Turk's request--or order, you should say. It wasn't as if you had a choice, either; you could accept it and rake in a hefty sum of gil that could make you a very wealthy woman, or you could sit back, reject it, and watch everyone you loved die. Rufus Shinra may be smarter than his father, but he was not above using the same dirty handed tricks to get what he wanted.

What you couldn't understand was why he had went through the trouble of digging you up out of retirement and sending his personal Turk squad to recruit you in the first place. There were plenty of other people who did the same thing you did, albeit they probably didn't have as high of a kill count, and ran as cheap as dirt. Then again, Rufus Shinra didn't do 'cheap'; he paid for results. Results that you, evidently, could give him.

Sephiroth had, for some reason, told you that he would not be in the area for quite some time after that encounter. Whether or not that meant he would be leaving Midgar as a whole was pretty vague; you couldn't help but wonder if he was doing the evil things Cloud always said he was up to. It didn't bother you, because in the end, it gave you time to work up the courage to dig out your suit and really think about what you would be doing for the next few months.

Killing Rufus' enemies. That was all you could come up with, how everything had been spun to you. He had a wealth of them, enough to have him effectively struck dead. No one believed for a second that he had nothing to do with his father's death; you didn't either, for that matter. No one that handsome and that confident stood at his own father's funeral and didn't shed a single tear without having a role to play.

All of this meant, in no short terms, you would be digging out your old merc contacts and being a mercenary full time once again. Your shop would have to be closed. You would be strictly in Shinra Central only, as close to Rufus Shinra as you could get, and working alongside his Turks to get your job done. You could only pray you didn't run into Cloud on your jobs, or you'd be in serious trouble.

You eyed the phone that Reno had sent you in the mail with suspicion. It sat on your nightstand, screen black, the Shinra logo plastered on the back for everyone to see. It had been outfitted with an industrial strength screen protector and case to withstand the jobs you would be doing. It only had one number in the contacts, labeled 'Mr. President', and if you wanted to accept this job, you'd be calling the man himself, not going through his goons to do it.

But before that, you had preparations to make. You hopped out of your suit and stowed it back in its box, sliding it under your bed and formulating an excuse. Your first plan was to tell everyone you were moving, but that wouldn't pan out; you would still have the building in your name, your personal items still all around the shop. Your second idea was that you were going to move to Sector Six as an entertainment teahouse, but you couldn't stomach that idea, and eventually settled on the real tear jerker: you had found a doctor in Sector Two who could treat your blindness permanently so your soulmate wouldn't have to constantly give you theirs. You would say that you had saved up enough money for the treatment and would be living there for a bit as you recovered.

In the meantime, you would allow Tifa to use it as a wayhouse for the little ones who tended to pop in every now and then to help out, or the abused women who needed a place to stay and have a proper bed. Your room would be off limits of course, your materia coming with you, but the rest was fair game, including the nice bathroom setup.

It was the best you could do as silent repayment for lying to them. You didn't want them to know about your past, even if they would say it was just that: the past. Unlike Cloud, you were stepping right back into it, far more easily than you liked to admit. The screams of your final victims seemed muted, dulled the more you silently slipped into the mind of a mercenary and no longer a citizen's.

So you made your excuse, refined it so that even you believed that was what you were doing, because it hurt you less. You couldn't stand the idea of saying it to their faces, so you wrote letters instead. You gave them to one of your kind neighbors, explaining the situation, and paid them heftily to deliver them on the day you left.

After that, it was as easy as sitting on your bed and making the call. Any other loose ends you would have Reno tie up for you, maybe Rude. But you couldn't let Rufus Shinra have the final word. It hadn't even been two weeks yet, not even six months, but if you wanted to do it before you chickened out, it had to be now.

You expected an assistant to pick up. Maybe even Reno or Rude. Instead, you were patched in to Rufus Shinra himself, sounding cool and calm.

His first remark to you was,"Reno said you would call before the deadline."

"I'm sure he did." You closed your eyes, silently slipping back into your mercenary habits. "Are there any details about my mission I should know beforehand?"

You had to fight to remain composed. This man could end your friends lives at the snap of a finger.

"Nothing that can't be given to you during an official briefing." He paused, considering. "Your files tell me that you're blind. Do I need to worry about your incompetence on that end?"

"No," you replied firmly. "I use my soulmate's to see. There will be no issues."

You'd just have to work around the thirty minute gaps. That was all.

"I see." You could hear him flip through pages, no doubt to the soulmate section. "You have no documented soulmate. I can assume you have no idea who they are?"

"Correct."

"Very well then." Rufus's tone of finality sent you for a loop. "You will begin a testing trial next week. You will visit Shinra Laboratories and submit yourself to a physical exam and what else they deem necessary in the next few days. Should you be unfit for the task, you will be conditioned until you are. Your ID will be updated to reflect your status immediately. Any other information will be delivered to you by Reno personally. Do you have any questions?"

You doubted he would answer them even if you did. "No, Mr. President."

"I'll see you next week."

Then the line went dead.

You stared at the phone for a few seconds before chunking it into your nightstand drawer.

Rufus Shinra had gotten the last word after all.


End file.
